Oznaka

short story

It was so quiet. As I waited for my bag, I only heard murmurs of dissatisfied travelers, and men in uniforms constantly repeating one or two instructions. Sheikh Saad Airport was not a big airport, or at least it did not seem to me. Continue reading “Mr. Ali’s Driver (I)”→

I watch the bus driving away. If I’m lucky, the next one will be here in fifteen minutes. I’m pissed off because I’m tired and hungry and, well, because I usually get pissed off when trying to get anywhere in this city. This time it’s worse: I actually made a run for it. Continue reading “The 10th Circle”→

“He is a little bit late, isn’t he?” asked Emina, opening the door. With her hair wrapped up in a wet towel she headed back through the narrow hallway. Slightly confused, I stood there for a few seconds trying to figure out who she was talking about but it was scorching outside and all I wanted was to feel the cold tiles under my bare feet. Continue reading “The Smell of Mothballs”→

They said it would rain for seven days in Sarajevo, but it still hadn’t; and it was day three since they’d announced it. I couldn’t tear myself away from the fresh air on the balcony and the noise from the next-door apartment, where a turbulent couple lived. I’d got used to the noise because if it weren’t for it, I would hear the noise inmyapartment. Continue reading “A Red Crayon”→

I never played with a Sindy. She was my older cousin’s best friend though. I knew a Barbie once. But we never got along well. I’d see her occasionally. She never saw me though. I neither liked her nor disliked her. With time, she made me feel uneasy. I couldn’t comprehend her hair, her face, her body, the way she’d feel under my fingers, her existence. Continue reading “Foundation”→

“I wonder,” you said. “That doesn’t surprise me,” I answered. “How do you do this?” You were in the phase where you constantly had to lend an ear to your uncontrollable urge for searching. And now you were missing. Continue reading “WEIRDICTION”→

The Wonder Twins, my dad and Uncle Calixto, pulled one of their quietos. Going behind the backs of the rest of the clan, they bought a watch store called Lil’ Venice in the middle of Caribe boulevard. There were two stages to the heist. Number one, insuring the store for big bucks with the insurance company where my uncle was a broker; and number two, self-robbery. Continue reading “La Guaira 1989”→

She was sent off into the world with one piece of advice from her esteemed sire. He told her: “Don’t let them win you on penalties. If it comes down to it, bow out and walk away.” Her father considered himself to be the Confucius of his age and with such an excess of nose and ear hair, she often thought of him as a relic from some Lancashire-based monastic order. Continue reading “Unnamed German”→